Payback

This is a two part tale. The second part is finished and will be posted within a day or so. There is NO sex depicted, especially under 18 sex. There is violence but little character development. Enjoy.

A long and fairly loud groan escaped my throat as I attempted to rollover. I had just come back to consciousness and somehow knew I had to get up and quickly. Unfortunately my body failed to respond to the urgent command from my foggy brain.

There was initial confusion as to why I hurt so badly? Why was I lying in the dirt on my stomach making little dust puffs with every breath I was trying to take? My kidney area hurt, my head hurt, my arms felt like lead. My fingers felt mashed. Even my legs hurt as much as my chest and abdomen. Somewhere I had read that the human body can’t feel pain from multiple areas but I am here to claim that whoever wrote that article was a dumbass.

With the groan, though, came a comment from somewhere in the darkness. “Hey, Stupid, are you awake and ready for round two?” Then came a laugh and it wasn’t a pleasant laugh, more like a derisive chuckle than a laugh of enjoyment.

I lay there quietly and marshaled my thoughts. I started with my name. Charlie Wilson, that’s it, that’s my name. I am thirty-three years old and employed as an accountant. I am six foot tall and about two hundred pounds in weight. I work out three times a week and run a 5K twice a week as part of my workout. Sometimes I mountain bike as a break in my routine.

I am married to Pam Wilson. She is thirty years old and we have been married five years. We have no kids but not because I don’t want any progeny. No, that is all on Pam, she wants to experience life a little more before being tied down by kids.

Now I remember, that is why I am lying on the ground breathing dust. Our home life had taken a serious nose-dive over the past six to eight weeks. I am not just talking about a suspension of sex in the master bedroom here. No, it was the total package, derisive comments about everything I did or didn’t do, angry outbursts for the least little irritation, belittlement of my manhood, my skin color, my hair color and style, my parents and all my siblings. Also Pam had not attempted to clean up after herself and had even refused to take her turn at cooking, something we had shared before the Big Freeze.

Yeah, I even remember when we met and how we started dating. Suffice it to say I really didn’t want to waste time on those memories right now.

Finally having enough of the abuse and neglect of our marital duties I had taken the day off and had followed Pam. During the day she had gone to work at her usual job, cashier at the local supermarket. It was after her shift was over that it started to get interesting. Remember the old Chinese curse: May you live in interesting times? Well it came true today or rather this evening.

It was a warm September day that became a warm September evening. The temperature must still be in the upper sixties as I lay in the dirt and contemplated the rest of the story. Pam had left work and had driven to the nearest convenience store.

I watched as she pulled a little overnight case out of the trunk of her car. By the way, she was driving a very nice car courtesy of me. Her paltry wages hardly kept her in clothes and makeup. I didn’t mind paying all the bills, at least until now. I loved her and wanted only the best for my woman, my wife.

When she exited the convenience store her outfit consisted of the shortest microskirt I had ever seen. If she hadn’t worn a thong and not been clean shaven you would have been able to count every pube on her mound without even trying hard. Her blouse was sheer and very see-through. Her nipples and aureoles were hardly disguised and she had no bra on, of course.

She shook her ass as she waltzed back to her car and proceeded in the direction of sleazy bars on the outskirts of town. I dutifully followed her to her destination. She pulled into the sleaziest of the sleazy bars, a biker hangout. Now please don’t write and tell me how there are not that many bad bikers out there. I know that. I am a biker myself but this was not the type of hangout where poker runs start or finish on the weekends.

Pam parked her little car on one end of the long line of bikes all nicely arranged side by side and made sure everyone could see her crotch as she exited. A couple of bikers were smoking next to the door. They just smiled and nodded as she swept by. Obviously she was not a stranger to these patrons.

I parked a ways away from the bikes and exited my old truck. Now I could afford a newer ride but I had a lot of history in this truck. My dad had bought this old Dodge Power Wagon back in the eighties. He had kept it pristine and I inherited it after he died in an industrial accident. I worked to keep that old Power Wagon as original as possible except for the lift kit and the new twenty inch tires. Long ago he had gotten rid of the original chrome front bumper and had replaced it with a thick and wide piece of lumber. The rest of the truck was cherry.

Yeah, it was a little loud. The guys smoking outside gave it a once over as I climbed down and shut the door. It wasn’t that unusual a truck so they went back to their conversation and another round of butts. As I got closer I could detect the odor of weed so that made some kind of sense in this location.

I was dressed in blue jeans and an old tee shirt instead of my usual suit. Following an erstwhile wife wasn’t something you did in a business suit. Yeah, I didn’t quite fit in but was way closer in dress than my normal work attire.

I went in. No cover charge in this place. I made my way to the bar and ordered a beer. No fancy brew today, whatever was on tap would have to do. While sipping my barley pop I casually observed what I could in the backbar mirror. Pam was easy to find. There were not that many women in attendance tonight and Pam was head and shoulders prettier than the rest of the biker babes. She was already sitting on the lap of the biggest bruiser I had ever laid eyes on. He was at least a head taller than her while sitting down and she was on his lap. He must have been well over six foot in height and at least two hundred and fifty pounds and it wasn’t all beer gut. No, this guy worked out and a lot.

I decided to just finish my beer and make my way out when Pam gave up kissing on the behemoth and looked around to make sure that all the bitches could see she had the alpha male all locked up. I watched as she looked hard at the back of my head, looked away and suddenly looked back. Shit, she recognized me.

I vacated the stool like it was greased and sitting on a side hill. Pam pointed me out and shouted, “That’s my husband Charlie. Stop him someone. He is going to ruin this for us all.”

Some guy immediately reacted and grabbed my arm. I just turned a little and shoved him into the wall hard enough to let me go. I turned back toward the door and made another few steps before the next guy tried to punch me in the side of the head. I have a hard head. Also, I wasn’t always an accountant. I grew up in a poorer section of town and learned early on how to put the hurt on someone. His fist grazed my head as I ducked. My right hit him right in the solar plexus and he grunted and bent over to catch his breath. I didn’t wait to make sure he was down.

I made the door just as another big ole boy started to enter. Behemoth was now shouting, “GET HIM! GET HIM NOW!”

The guy made sure to stay right in front of me, keeping me inside for a moment or two. My old football coach used to say that we needed to block through our opponents so I aimed for the clean open air outside the bar as I lowered and put my shoulder in his chest and drove him back. I didn’t get clear of him as he wrapped his big arms around me. As we cleared the door he jammed his left foot and threw me over his left shoulder. My momentum carried me down the steps to the dirt and I rolled. I came up fast but Behemoth was now in the fight.

God, he was huge and well set up. He smashed through my arms as I was trying to protect my face and torso. I don’t know if I even landed one blow to his chiseled face or body. All I remember was pain with every hit, every punch, and every kick once he got me on the ground.

Shit, he didn’t even start to breathe heavy as he took me apart and he kept talking the whole time. Comments like, “Take this, Loser. Fucking asshole, come into my place and try to make trouble. You fucking wimp, I’ll fuck her three times tonight just to show you who is boss. Her asshole loves my nine inch cock. She sucks my cock and my asshole every night she comes here and then she makes you lick her cum filled pussy when she gets home.”

It went on and on until I wasn’t moving. As I lost consciousness I could hear Pam laughing at how I looked on the ground. Behemoth told the few others to watch me and come get him if I got up. “I want another piece of the little shit before I am done with him for the night.”

Now that I was conscious again I needed a plan to get out of here without another beating. Or would that be a continued beating? I really didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

One eye wasn’t opening. It didn’t feel that swelled so I assumed it was blood keeping me from seeing out of it. I worked my right hand, the one that was trapped under my body when I fell, under my body until I could get to that eye. I had been out for a while as the blood was crusty from drying. I rubbed until my eyelid started to open and I could see a little. My left eye seemed undamaged.

Not knowing where the watchers were located I hoped I was in a shadow and slowly started to slide toward my truck. I moved a few inches as quietly as I could and then stopped. After making sure no alarm was raised I moved some more. I kept this up for the entire time needed to move closer to the truck. Once I was in the shadow of the bikes and Pam’s car I shakily got up on my knees. I chewed the hell out of the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out from the pain.

My breathing was ragged so I assumed that I had some broken ribs. It hurt to take even a shallow breath. Sharp pain was my constant reminder to take it very slow. Once I was up I looked around. My watchers apparently had been given extra weed and booze as they were seated next to the building and not paying attention to anything around them. The Taliban would have had a field day with these idiots.

I turned and looked. There was no one near my truck. Hunched over I slowly made my way to my ride. I got the door unlocked and then opened it. Now might be the time for an alarm as the dome light came on. It was like a beacon in the otherwise dark parking lot. I regretted jacking up the truck so high as I tried to climb up. Only the fear that I might be discovered before getting into safety made me suck it up and climb up.

I settled into the seat and put the key into the ignition. With the door shut the dome light was now off. I took a couple of calming breaths as I tried to figure out my next move. Once I cranked my ride over the quiet would be broken and my attackers would be alerted. How do I get away? I looked out and a smile slowly came over my face. Shit, my teeth and my lips hurt so the smile went away quickly.

Right there in front of me, about thirty yards distant, was Pam’s car and the bikes all lined up so nice and pretty. Did I have the power needed? I couldn’t crawl back out and engage the hubs so I would have to do this in two wheel drive. This old truck didn’t have the automatic hubs the new trucks had.

It was time. I cranked the engine and it caught on the first try. I dropped the transmission into low and floored it. The watchers by the door looked up kind of bleary eyed as my truck launched toward the car and the bikes on the other side of it.

The big old piece of timber blasted the left side of Pam’s car. The car was so light it almost came off its wheels. I know I lifted it and it slammed into the bikes on the other side. There was a horrendous noise that brought the watchers fully alert and screaming.

I powered forward until my forward progress was halted. I backed up and luckily nothing hung up. I twisted the wheel and hit second gear as I cleared the worst of the wreckage before twisting the wheel back and hitting the rest of the bikes. This time I had enough forward momentum to push the bikes right up against the door of the bar which stopped the bunch trying to exit at the same time. Sadly I couldn’t punch into the building itself. I would have loved to drop the whole piece of shit on Pam and her lover.

I backed up and spun my wheels, kicking up a cloud of dust as I exited the parking lot and headed away from town. I was hurting and my breathing hadn’t improved with the work of steering and shifting gears. I needed a hospital but wasn’t going to go to the local community hospital. No I was headed about fifty miles west to a trauma center.

For the first few miles there was no one behind me. The two lane highway seemed to be deserted for some odd reason. Then I could make out a couple of headlights coming up fast. There were a few more right behind the first ones. No red or blue lights though so the cops weren’t on the prowl already.

Soon they caught up. I could see the individual headlights of motorcycles. I guess I might not have gotten them all. A couple came up alongside the truck. Some pieces of chain bounced off the metal. Damnit! I don’t think they could hurt the truck but could fuck up the paint. My mind quickly tried to figure out how to stop them or get away. I knew their top end was probably higher than my old truck so outrunning them was out of the question.

In desperation I swerved over the center line and took the couple alongside me off the other side of the road. Those big bikes don’t like ditches and they both wrecked. While I took the left hand ones out a couple of others came up alongside my right side. A quick swerve and they were herded right off the right hand side of the road where they also bit the dirt. I glanced and saw someone cartwheel off his bike. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

I still had a bunch behind me and they were dangerously close. I hoped they didn’t get the idea to leap from a bike into the back of my truck bed as that would get them too close for comfort, as if they weren’t already too close.

Suddenly I slammed on my brakes and I felt a small thump. I hit the gas again and didn’t see any more headlights behind me. Shit, in all the movies the bikers always pester the car driver until they win. Is it really that easy to defeat a motorcycle?

When I got near Centerville and the trauma center I again started to think hard. How do I keep Pam from finding out where I am? She and Behemoth would first assume I would either go home to lick my wounds or go to the nearest hospital. Not finding me anywhere close I would assume they would look further afield. If I was admitted to a regular bed in the trauma center how do I protect myself?

I thought and thought as I slowed down to a crawl. Finally I remembered an acquaintance who had some land near Centerville. He rented out the pasture and seldom ever even went to look over the land. It might just work for me. I proceeded to where I thought his small ranch was located. There had not been anyone living there for many years but the old farmhouse and barn were still there, albeit surrounded by tall trees and weeds.

I pulled in and parked my truck behind the barn. I left my wallet and identification in the cab and put my keys on top of the rear wheel where they wouldn’t be easily spotted. Damn it hurt to walk but I had to get some distance from the truck. Once I made the 911 call for help the local law enforcement dudes will be out looking for the Power Wagon.

I made it about a mile before the pain and the shortness of breath got too much to bear. I sat down on the edge of the gravel road and pulled out my cell phone. I dialed 9-1-1 and whispered when the operator answered. “Help me. I was abducted and beaten and woke on the side of the road. I have no idea where I am. Please send help.” Other than lying about knowing where I actually was, I had not lied. And I really needed help. The operator tried to get me to look for landmarks but I just let the phone go down to my side. I knew they could locate me by the phone’s GPS. All they had to do was ping it and they would get a close location unless I was on the fringe of my coverage area. I did whisper that I was on a gravel road but there was no signage to help otherwise. I then laid down to rest.

I must have fallen asleep or lost consciousness because the next thing I knew someone was bending over me. At first I couldn’t tell who it might be. Had Behemoth or any of his cronies found me? It was definitely a male so it couldn’t be Pam. Anyhow I had trashed her car so, unless she had another ride figured out, it couldn’t be her.

It was starting to get light out. Daybreak couldn’t be that far off but what day was it? Had I been here on the side of a lonely country road for more than a day? The voice kept asking questions.

I finally made up a name for him. My voice was still only a whisper. Compounding the beating I had endured was the lack of any kind of liquid in the last unknown amount of hours. “My name is Sam Adams. I live in Wilsonville. I am forty years old and I am allergic to Penicillin.” All lies of course but the man asking the questions didn’t know that. Without an ID no one could refute my claims. I just had to keep my story straight. I told the voice that I must have been mugged, slugged into submission, beaten and dumped here. I asked him what day it was. I almost let out a sigh of relief when it was apparent I had not been unconscious for over a day.

Soon an ambulance was on scene and I was off to the Trauma Center. The paramedic in the back with me started an IV and gave me something for nausea. He also gave me something for my pain . I just went with the flow and didn’t complain much except for the heaviest of bumps.

We were at the Trauma Center in a matter of minutes. The dried blood on my face was carefully washed off by a very nice nurse. The doctor tut-tutted over my injuries. I stayed with the story that I had been abducted, beaten, taken to the rural area and dumped. I told them my wallet was missing so I didn’t have any ID. I gave them a birthdate that was a combination of my mom’s birthday and my brother’s birth year. I could easily remember that lie. The birthdate would only make me thirty-six instead of forty but I figured they wouldn’t really care since I had been unconscious multiple times since the beating.

Soon a police officer came in and questioned me. I gave him a location in a different town for the site of the abduction. There are a lot of small towns around Centerville. Crap, now I had to make up another lie when he asked for my home address. Too many lies to keep straight might get dicey. I also told him I was divorced and had no other family. Whew, that lie would be easier to keep up with.

The cop then asked a weird question. “Do you ride a motorcycle?”

That one I could easily answer without worrying about the truth. “I used to, many years ago but have not owned a bike for a long time. Why do you ask?”

“We are investigating an accident, or actually a series of accidents, that happened about twenty miles from town. Two bike riders were killed in one accident and six others have varying injuries ranging from multiple fractures to critical head injuries. Of course, none of the riders have been able to tell us what actually happened. We have detectives looking into the incidents as accidents seem to be illogical. These guys are hard-core bike riders and having accidents is not realistic. The working thought is that a rival bike gang might have caused them to crash.”